I have not had a migraine since 2007. Atenolol keeps me off them. But I remember well enough what they used to be like. This poem was written in 1995, probably following recovery from one of them.
It was published in Streetwise 18, 1995, p. 28.
THE EXORCISM OF MIGRAINE
The blackness pooling round my brain
begins to drain.
The extra filing-cabinet up there
(I have to step around
its bruising corners and its spill
of order on the floor)
fades into air.
The lobes relax their grind
and re-engage. I have a mind.
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